I Don’t Understand Girl Talk

Last week, Simpler Living blogger Naomi Seldin wrote a post outlining five things that made her feel old. Me, I just have one: the latest release from Girl Talk, which after listening to it made me age about twenty years.

For those who don’t know, Girl Talk – real name Gregg Michael Gillis – is a DJ that specializes in mash-ups. Mash-ups are combinations of different songs edited, chopped, sped up and/or slowed down in order to mesh together to create a single sound.

It’s primarily an internet-driven genre. Most mash-up artists end up having to give their mp3s away for free on the internet due to copyright restrictions that prevent them from profiting from their work. Girl Talk has gained a strong following and been been crowned King of Mash-Ups, specializing in frenetic cuts and using uber-popular songs.

Therein lies my problem. Not thirty seconds goes by in an individual track without shifting the entire beat to another high-profile hit. For some this is desirable and part of the appeal.

Me, I was freaking exhausted before the second track started.

I felt like listening to the album was giving me attention deficit disorder. All of the jumps and cuts were too much for me, and I felt no sense of consistency or flow. After listening tothe third track, I wondered if maybe the reason the ATF’s sonic assault didn’t drive the Branch Davidians out of their compound in Waco, Texas is because they were all huge Girl Talk fans.

If you’re a fan of Girl Talk, that may seem unfair. It probably is. I’ve joked about it many times before, but at times I really do have the mentality and sensibilities of an old man.

Maybe that’s what it comes down to. It’s not you, Girl Talk. It’s me.

Click the image above to download the album for free.

Maybe if it was ten years ago I could listen to or even stand this album without cringing, but none of it jives with my current sensibilities. While some listen to the album and hail it as brilliant, I listen to it and hear an intoxicated frat boy getting home at 4:00am, listening to his iPod, and skipping around incessantly because he’s too drunk to decide what he wants to listen to.

I will say this: what Girl Talk does requires no shortage of skill, talent, and patience. It’s no easy task to take all of these songs lay them over each other so that they have a consistent rhythm and pace. However, while I hear skill and craft in the record, there is to me a troubling absence of what I would consider art. In his music, I do not hear a voice of an artist. I hear a guy trying to convince me that he’s really good at what he does; which he is, but that’s the equivalent of a carpenter making a sturdy chair and trying to convince me it’s art. Sure, it’s comfortable and solid and put together well, but is that chair telling me anything other than to sit in it?

That, though, is subjective and why I couldn’t write music reviews professionally. I can’t sit here and honestly tell you that this work has no merit or definitively is not art.